


You'll Be Given Love

by runsinthefamily



Series: Nineteen [10]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Oral, Teasing, wank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:57:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily





	You'll Be Given Love

He'd left the lamp burning, as he usually did on nights that Priana was out and about without him. Three months together and he could hardly sleep without her beside him. His mouth quirked and his quill faltered a little. To be fair, he hardly slept when she was beside him ...

The voices warned him, a clatter of mail and heavy footfalls. He grasped for his staff before he realized that it wasn't Templars. Too disorganized, too frantic. Carta, or mercenaries, maybe, a tossup whether they needed his services or wanted to make a point to the free healer.

Then he heard Varric's unmistakable tones. "Blondie! You better be up!"

The door opened, and they carried Priana through.

"Spiders," said Aveline shortly, laying Priana on one of his cots. "Giant spiders."

"Really giant," said Priana, her face so white it was almost green. "As big as, ow, Gamlen's house. Ow. Fangs as long as, ow, my leg."

"Tossed her down and worried her like a mabari with a bone," said Merrill, her ears drooping and her vallaslin creased across her brow. "I told her we needed more elfroot potions."

Anders gently pulled Priana's hands away from her belly, lifted the hasty bandaging, and swallowed. Three sets of deep puncture wounds ran from just below her ribs to just above her hip bones. Blood and froth and ichor stained her skin.

"I'm a little dizzy," she confided.

 _You should be dead_ , he didn't say. He extended his hands, calling up spirit energy, assessing the damage. He snatched them away again almost immediately. "There's blood magic here," he said.

"Oh!" said Merrill. "That's me. She was bleeding ... well, rather a lot, and I thought, oh, what about that spell that lets me make people's blood explode right out of them, except that instead of telling it to explode, I told it to stay? And it worked."

Anders swallowed, hard, trying to keep in mind that the crazy blood mages's crazy blood magic experimentation had kept Priana alive. "Could you please stop it, now? So that I can heal her?"

"Right," she said. "Be ready, then." She closed her eyes, spread one spindly hand out in Priana's direction, and whispered something beneath her breath.

"Shit," said Priana, voice tight with pain, and suddenly she was bleeding all over the table, blood like a river, like a tide. Anders clamped his hands down on her belly and wrenched open the Veil.

A virulent poison made things harder, as did the lingering remnants of Merrill's well intentioned meddling. Priana's blood was sluggish and resistant, her tissues so badly torn that he was forced to destroy some of them and persuade her body into regrowth. It pushed her dangerously close to shock and he compensated with his own energy, pulling what he needed from his reserves until Justice muttered warningly and his vision blurred around the edges.

"Lyrium," he said. Someone tipped a bottle against his lips and he drank, the burning chalk of it barely registering. He was inside Priana's body, rejoining blood vessels, repairing organs, erasing the violence that the spider had done to her, leaving perfect pink health behind.

When he finally stepped away, Aveline's strong hand catching him beneath one arm, the room seemed to dip and sway. The lyrium coiled in his gut, nauseating and warm.

"Not even a scar," said Merrill. "Look, Varric."

"Hrmm," said Varric. "How about we just cover her up and let her rest."

She was unconscious now, unsurprisingly, but her colour was already better, he could see, and the tight lines of pain around her eyes and mouth had relaxed. Now and then, he truly thanked the Maker he'd been born a healer.

"Alright, Anders?" Aveline settled him into a chair.

"Yes, fine," he said. "She'll be fine. Rest and a few good meals. I'll make sure she gets them."

Aveline quirked a thin red brow at him. "And who's going to make sure you get the same?"

He huffed a laugh. "Move her to a clean cot, if you could?"

They hoisted her easily into the next cot over, and Aveline efficiently stripped the bloodied sheets off the previous one.

"We should clear out," said Varric. "Unless you need anything, Blondie?"

Anders shook his head. "Thank you," he said. "For getting her here." He bit his lip, struggled briefly with his Justice-self, and then said, "You especially, Merrill. You saved her life, I think."

Merrill flushed and ducked her head and Varric gave Anders an approving nod. Aveline clasped Anders' arm. "I'll come by in the morning to see how things are," she said, and then herded the other two out.

Anders levered himself up, locked the doors behind them, and then bent over Priana, this time to carefully remove her ravaged shirt. He wiped the worst of the muck off of her, carefully smoothing a wet cloth over the site of her injuries. Not the faintest hint of a scar.

"As it should be," he murmured.

Her eyelids fluttered. "Anders?"

"Shh," he said, bent down, and brushed his lips over hers.

"Mmmnnm," she sighed sleepily. "Saved my life again?"

"Merrill helped," he said.

"And now you're stripping me naked?" Her smile went sly.

"You're filthy," he informed her.

"Sweet talker."

He hauled an extra blanket off another cot and covered her up again, trying to remember that what she needed was a healer, not a lover. "Go back to sleep. Your body needs rest."

"My body needs --"

"Priana," he said firmly. "Go to sleep."

"Stay with me?"

"I'll be right here," he said. She smiled. "In the next cot."

"Fine," she said.

He'd barely put out the light and settled into the thin, scratchy sheets when she started.

Just shifting at first, small sighs, casual enough to be her attempts to get comfortable on the cot. Then a deeper sigh, some louder rustling, and a thump and jingle as something hit the floor.

"Pri?" he said.

"Took my pants off," she said lightly. "Leather is hard to sleep in."

"Right," he said.

Silence for a while.

"Mmmhm."

His eyes shot open. She wasn't, was she?

A sigh, more languorous than previous ones. "Mmmn."

"Priana," he said.

"What?"

"Stop that."

"Excuse me?"

"I can hear you," he said. "You need rest, not more ... stimulation."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, her smile evident in her tone.

"I mean it. Go to sleep."

"You are such a spoilsport."

He sighed. How was he going to manage this? "If you can't listen to your own body's need for rest, maybe you can listen to mine? I'm exhausted."

"Oh." Chastised and subdued. He felt guilty immediately. "Sorry."

"Thanks, love," he said.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He was very nearly asleep, his breath slow and even, his body relaxed, when she caught her breath just loud enough for him to hear. Irritation dragged him away from sleep. Could she not listen to him? Stressing her body so soon after such a intense healing was not a good idea.

On the other hand, if she just rubbed a quick one out, it might serve to get her to sleep. It was going to leave him hopelessly hard, but he was used to that where she was concerned, wasn't he?

She was quiet, so quiet that he began to doubt that he'd actual heard what he thought he had. If he strained his ears, he could hear the very barest shift of cloth, a tiny, rhythmic rubbing. It went on and on, her breath controlled, almost silent. It was so unlike her, what he knew of her. In bed with him, she was vocal, free, uninhibited. This constrained, careful stealth was something new.

It was nearly unbearable, the tiny noises, imagining her face, her tense body, her fingers dancing in the smallest of circles. _Finish_ , he pleaded silently. _Finish, for the Maker's sake._

***

_For the Maker's sake, why can't I finish?_

Everytime she neared the peak, Anders would shift, or she would have to gasp and then freeze until she was sure that he hadn't heard, or her forearm would cramp. She used to be so good at this, undetectable self pleasuring. She'd done it in the same bed as Bethany, for the Maker's sake, and never been caught.

Anders' breathing changed and she stopped, damp heat forming between her spine and the bedlinens, her fingers stilled on her clit, her thighs tense. Orgasm retreated again.

Fuck, she mouthed at the air. Maybe she could get up, leave the room for some reason? No, he would want to know where she was going.

His breathing returned to its slow, even pattern. She bit her lip and began again, dipping her fingertips into the slick between her labia. Fuck, she was wet. When she drew them back up to her clit, they squelched ever so slightly. Maker, but she was sensitive. She couldn't even touch directly on the round little head of her clit anymore, she could only apply herself to the root and sides, nudging, coaxing. She shut her eyes.

_Anders, bent over her. Anders, shirtless and sweating. Anders in her bed, in the library, right here in the clinic, oh, their first time, the way he'd seated her on top of him and lay back against the dingy pillow, his redgold hair spread out around his face, yes, and the look he'd given her when he'd put his thumb right there, right where her fingers were, or, yes, better, the time he'd showed her the electricity trick, laying beside her on one elbow, watching her face as he'd slipped two fingers into her pussy and another one knuckle deep in her ..._

Anders jerked suddenly in his sheets and she nearly bit her lip bloody in frustration. She let out her held breath slowly, controlled and quiet. Her whole body fairly thrummed with thwarted sexual tension. There would be no sleeping until she spent it, and he would just not stop moving.

One more go. One more before she just gave it up as a bad job and lay there, consumed with lust, until the morning came.

She eased her free hand up to her breast and thumbed the nipple as she went back to the task at, as it were, to hand.

***

She was going to kill him. With suspense, with tension, with the world's worst case of stifled lust. She kept _stopping_ , Maker, just as he was sure her steepening breath and twitches were building toward a finish. Stopping and then starting again. Andraste's ass, if this was the way she always pleasured herself, she had a masochistic streak as wide as the Waking Sea, and he was _definitely_ going to spend a lot of time investigating ...

 _Stop it_ , he told himself. _You are making it worse._

Across the room, Priana's breath hissed out between her teeth and then she stopped. Again.

Ander flung off the sheet, rolled to his feet and crossed the space between the cots in three long strides, shucking his shirt as he went.

"Anders -?" She half sat up, her voice both guilty and annoyed, and then, "oh!" as he stripped the blankets off her. He seized the side of her smalls in either fist and sparked a brief surge of fire that left them in singed tatters. The remnants he tossed over his shoulder. "Anders, you - !"

He took her knees, dragged her to the edge of the cot, and put his face between her legs. It took less than twenty seconds before she was crying out, the muscles of her thighs and belly leaping and clenching. She sat up as he pulled away, grabbed his hair and kissed him, smearing her slick between their faces, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.

He climbed onto the cot, she scrambling backward beneath him, both of them awkwardly craning and clashing teeth as they strained to keep their lips together. He leaned over her, one handedly tearing at his laces.

"Fuck!" she said against him, reached down, and tore his trousers open.

"Maker," he groaned. He slapped her hand away from his prick. "Don't, don't, I'm not going to last."

She looped her legs about his hips and urged him downward. "Do it, come on, Anders."

She was wet like a river, like the ocean, so wet that when he pushed, it was nothing but a smooth glide all the way in. She shuddered when he bottomed out. He knelt up, cautious, even in his lust, of her newly-healed belly. She planted her feet and tilted her hips, meeting his thrust. When he put his thumb to her though, she caught at his wrist.

"Too - too much," she gasped.

"Worked yourself sore, did you?" he asked. "Well, whose fault is that?" He put his palm to her, gently, and let out a pulse of healing.

"Nnnnngh," she said. "Couldn't finish - you kept - every time I heard you -"

He laughed, breathlessly. "You mean, you -"

"I was trying to let you sleep!" she panted, and then laughed as well.

"Oh, Maker," he said, and then, "oh, _Maker_ ," as he came, suddenly, like a dam letting loose.

He managed to stay on his knees, swaying a little. Priana lay across the cot, still giggling. He scraped together enough concentration and mana to summon a wisp. The pale light revealed her, hair tousled, breastband still on, a few faint traces of blood still in the shadows of her ribcage.

" _Now_ will you sleep?" he asked.

"Yes," she said and held out her arms.

He sighed and went into them.


End file.
